Of a midnight trek

I discovered something in the wee hours of Saturday morning. I discovered I had leg muscles. They pulled me up a hill called Skandagiri about 60 km from Bangalore. Needless to say I am now writing this post from bed, agony running through my legs and unable to move.

But boy, do I feel alive.

Yeah ok, so Skandagiri is not a treacherous trek. Full time trekkers would probably scoff at my cribbing. But hey, when you’re living my life which consists of mostly living off the internet, smoking and drinking whenever I have free time, then a trek, however insignificant it might be, is true living. For one, it told me how much I’ve damaged my body and health over the years. And it gave me an experience I wont be forgetting in a long long time.

The plan to trek was hatched about a week ago. A couple of my friends decided they wanted to trek in the moonlight and Skandagiri was famous for that. I hadn't heard of the place (in all my years in Bangalore) and decided to ask around. The response I got was favorable. A colleague mentioned being there and the fact that it was a corporate favorite.

Wait a minute. Corporate favorite? You mean there might be girls there, I asked.

Yes, my colleague said. There’s a 100 percent chance there can be girls.

I was sold.

And so I decided to make the trek. Tell you guys the truth I had no idea what was coming to me. Come on, the most I’ve done in trekking is walking to bus stops or ATM’s and hell you cant call them treks. It should have rung in my mind that I would be encountering 90 degree inclines and steep descents. It should have rung in my mind that I have an intense fear of heights but noooo, the very fact that girls (and corporate girls for that) would be on the peak just blocked out all reason.

Oh well. Men will be men, I guess.

On Friday night I got to know that one of my friends had pulled out. Apparently he didn't like the idea of climbing a hill with only a torch to aid him. I considered that for a while. My family is not in the country at this point. How would they get to know if something were to happen to me. What about bandits ? Being robbed on a highway in the middle of the night in Bangalore almost always left one dead. Was I really going to take that chance ?

What the hell, I thought. I’m twenty-six, and fast looking at thirty. If not now, then when ?

Actually it was still the girls that kept me going.

It was decided then. No turning back. Armed with a white Marlboro drag racing helmet I decided to hop on one of the two bikes and set forth towards the unknown. The helmet was purely for health reasons, I didn't want all that dust accumulating in my already smoke filled lungs. I cant ride a bike. I cant ride it for shit. Somehow I just don't like bikes.

There were four in our trekking party. Armed with instructions downloaded from the net, a couple of water bottles and three torches we set out at approx eleven on Friday night. We took the National Highway via Devanahalli, snapped a couple of pics in the middle of that road, with cars zipping behind us. The ride was fine. My ass felt numb after about an hour but that was ok.

One thing I distinctly remember is the stars. In Bangalore I could probably count the number of stars in the sky. By the time we crossed Devanahalli, the sky was filled with stars. I don't ever remember seeing so many stars before.

The route was simple. Go past Devanahalli, get to a village called Chikkubellapur. Take a right from the Viswesharya statue. A left, another right and straight on till you reach an ashram. Climb the darn hill from there.

Sounds easy don't it ? Problem was when we got the Chikkubellapur, we couldn't find any darn statue. We actually crossed the village trying to find it. And in the end we rode a good 5 km away from it.

What else to do but turn? So we turned. And asked directions from one of the most weirdest people ever.

I told you we were on a highway right ? Well as we turned we saw an Indica overturned, and I mean overturned as in on its roof right beside the road. Standing next to it were two men and by the looks of it, there was no one in the car. We stopped, unsure if we had a moral obligation to help as both men did not look injured. In fact one of them was drunk.

We asked him for directions and he gave it to us in that cool drunk who-the-hell-cares way. And we left. Simple as that. But thinking about it I cant help but wonder. What were they doing beside that car ? Had they just emerged from a crash ? Were they just passer-by’s trying to salvage what could have been forgotten in the car ? Or did they just stand there to reflect ?

Or maybe, we were the weird ones and were trying to make too much out of what could have been nothing.

Anyhoo, we went back to the village and found ourselves lost again. This time with the help of a few policemen who themselves were drunk. When asked for a landmark, their response was: Devika Bar. We had to smile. They were our kind of people.

But the landmark proved elusive. Chikkubellapur was certainly no Bangalore, and most of the buildings looked the same. What made matters worse was that most of the signs were in Kannada which none of us could read. Which was one of the reasons we found ourselves in the middle of a junction under a streetlight utterly confused. The silence and the absence of people was unnerving. We just weren't used to it. It was by then 12.45 and we’d always been used to being around people at that time.

We stood there for a couple of minutes trying to decide on what to do next when we heard a bike take a turn a couple of meters ahead of us. One of the bike riders zipped off behind it, keeping his finger glued to his horn. Imagine that. You’re on a bike and you hear someone honking his horn behind you. You look in the rear view mirror and you see a biker coming at you like crazy.

Man that must have been a scary image.

Fortunately for us the biker was a brave man. He decided not to flee but stopped and gave us the right directions. We were on our way.

Halfway towards the ashram we picked up a guide. It made sense since we’ve never been here before and it was already close to 2 in the morning. If we had to make it to the peak by sunrise we’d have to know the way up. We had a bit of price haggling but in the end we had a guide for INR 400.

The bike ride ended at the ashram which turned out to be located right at the foot of the hill. The trek started there. And right from the word go something extraordinary happened.

We were welcomed by a snake. Now I don't know if you guys know this, but I adore snakes. You’ll find them in abundance in my home town, but I’d never seen one in Bangalore. But here was one right there in front of us. I’m not exactly sure what kind it was but it was bright green and about a foot and a half. Experience tells us that the shorter the snake is, the more venomous it is. I think that's true. When I described the snake to another friend she said it was a viper. I’m not too sure about that.

But what a welcome! It was just what I needed to get my blood running. Imagine it, standing under the moonlight in the middle of deadpan silence and training your torch on a beautiful snake. Yeah, I know. Fricking awesome !

Adrenaline pumping in our veins, we started up the hill. An hour later, reality crashed down on me.

I was not eighteen. Those days were long gone. And I’ve not really been the poster boy for Men’s Health magazine. The first thing that hit me was the panting and the loss of breath. Smoking does that to you. The second thing that hit me was the fact that my legs were killing me. Not exercising does that to you. With each and every step my body cursed me with the foulest words ever used. Not to mention that I was cursing under my breath too.

The more I turned the torch to the peak the farther away it felt. A quarter of the way up and we had our first break. And I was ready to call it quits.

But hark! I hear voices. Female voices! Somewhere from up in the distance. What ? A bunch of girls can get their asses up there and I’m struggling on a piece of rock ??? Unthinkable !!!

Needless to say I climbed up the hill and my body screamed at me: YOU FUCKING MORON !!!!

We overtook them and by then I was drenched head to toe in sweat and panting away like a dog who’d just chased a Ferrari. But as soon as I saw one of the girls sitting on a rock and looking at me I willed myself to shut up and converted my panting into manly grunts.

She kept looking at me as I passed her by undoubtedly thinking I was Bruce Banner.

And so it happened that we would continue this cycle for a while. They’d overtake us while we took a break and we’d overtake them while they took a break. I have to say it: that girl got me up that peak. The fact that she was able to climb that godforsaken hill so effortlessly bothered me so much that I resolved to scale that peak … even if it killed me.

Three hours. Three long hours. For three hours I pushed my body to extremes it had never crossed. At some point I’m sure that I broke the barrier of physical punishment. And all of it for some girl whom I hadn't even seen properly.

We reached the peak at around 4.30 in the morning. And relief filled my body as it started the slow and painful path to recovery. The organizers were serving food up there and I gobbled up two plates of noodles. The peak was fairly crowded with a couple of tents being raised and a few campfires lit. There was a group ahead of us who seemed very lively, singing and taking off shirts. There were girls among that group but alas, none of them were topless.

We had sat down and were in no mood to get up. There was yet another group beside who were very annoying with their continuous use of the word “dude”. It was always: “dude look at that” or “dude pass me the water” or “dude I wish she was here with me” and worst of all: “dude love is so great.”

I know. Torture. Fucking torture.

But we were too tired to move. And even though I had in my mind a small sort of plan to get myself acquainted to the girl who had motivated me, I just couldn't move. I was more inclined to lying down and watching the stars. Which I did. And eventually I dozed.

By the time I woke up, it was close to six and the sky was beginning to light up. I blinked a couple of times and realized that I could very well miss the sunrise if I closed my eyes.

And then it hit me. That cold cold wind.

For some reason I didn't have a jacket. Or a sweater for that matter. All that I wore was a shirt ( and a thin one too ) and a pair of jeans. That was it. The peak would be freezing cold in the wee hours of the morning, that was a given. And yet I didn't feel the need to carry something to protect.

Cursing my stupidity and my body shivering in disbelief, I woke the others up. Hell if I was going to freeze I sure as hell wasn't going to do it with the others sleeping their way to glory.

So there we were, four guys shivering on a peak. And watching with wonder as the other groups just seemed to have a gala time.

Don't get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with the peak. It was beautiful. The view was stunning. Its just that we weren't prepared for all of this. I think at some point of time as we watched the others have fun we must have realized that our time was coming to an end. A couple of years earlier and we would have been just like them – screaming our lungs out. Now we just wanted to get back home.

The girl was forgotten. I never got to see her. And to tell you the truth. At the end of it all … I just didn't care anymore.

The sun rose. Tired as though we were it truly was a sight to behold. I was on the peak. And there were girls all around me. But i just didn't care. That final scene of watching the sun’s rays spreading across the carpet of fields below us was more than enough.

A couple of hours later we were on our way down. And boy … what a relief that was!

Of moving day

Atleast it wasnt like this:

"Honey ... I think we missed something"

While we were packing; and by we I mean V and me and by packing I mean the time when I was ready to leave Bangalore; we went through some of the stuff we werent sure of. It's been over a year in this apartment and while thats not much, two people left during the past year and some of their stuff were left behind. We were making sure that none of the stuff left behind were important and hence trash worthy.

It was at this point that we found something that boggled our eyes as well as our minds. You see, one of our previous roomate had left behind a stash (carefully hidden) of provocative pictures. Oh hell, why lie ? They were pure porn. Prono pics taken off the internet and then printed in black and white on A4 papers.

Boys will be boys. I get that, I totally do. But this is certainly not the sort of thing that you do when youre in your mid 20's. No no, when you're in your mid 20's you already know what sex is about and you dont need Debonair or Cosmopolitan. And you most certainly do not want to take print outs of internet porno. That's just ... just ... wierd.

We had a good laugh about it and stashed it away in the black plastic garbage bag.

Wrong move.

The packing was done and we shifted everything out to the new place where V would be staying. I was scheduled to leave that weekend. So everything was set and all we had to do was clean the place up and throw out the trash, which for some reason; we wouldnt do. Why ? Beats me. I know I'm lazy and I also know V had work that day but since we packed the whole place up it only seemed logical that we clean up.

Well, we ended up hiring help which is always ready at hand in India. V went off to work and left me to supervise the old woman who did the cleaning and the trash. As this was being done and me looking all important the woman upstairs, (not the coins couple) came down to have a chat and ask about the new place. This was unprecedented. The ladies of that building had always a wary eye for bachelors and we never expected them to indulge in chitchat. Maybe it was the fact that we were leaving that made this woman let her guard down.

Thinking back on it now I can see how clearly those things stacked up against me.

The cleaning lady took out the trash bag just as the woman upstairs was asking me about my family. The trash was stuffed in those big black plastic garbage bags and she had some difficulty getting it down the stairs. Ever the chivalrous, I offered to give her a hand. I took hold of the bottom in a fast grip and that was when I saw it.

The bottom had given away. And it was too late.

See this picture. See it very well :

We are at the head of a fleet of stairs. The bottom of a trash bag filled with papers has ripped off. The porno pics for which neither me nor V are responsible stumble out. Some get picked up with the wind and the lady from upstairs has a good long look at them as they fly past her. The rest fall out onto the stairs and in such an orchestrated manner that there is on one each step until it reaches the door of a family downstairs which unfortunately is open.

The door slams as the woman upstairs dissapears. All in one fast, swift moment.

The cleaning lady looks at the pictures and then back at the shocked, red faced me.

"Bachelors, eh ?" she asks.

Of saying goodbye

How do you say goodbye ? Not to a person but to a dream ? A cherished dream that would have held the future for you, a dream that would have lasted all your life ?

That is what I have to say goodbye to when I say goodbye to Bangalore.

First off, apologies for not posting anything for nearly a month. The past three weeks have been a crazy whirlwind of emotions, heated discussions and difficult decisions. At the end of it all, for better or for worse, I've decided to leave Bangalore. Health, finance, career and family all had their part in this decision which I have to say, was one of the hardest I have ever had to take.

Two years ago on this very day I first set foot upon Bangalore. The myth's and legends of Bangalore being the techno savvy city of India were all thrown out the window in the first five minutes. While I was expecting something hi-tech I was greeted with pollution, garbage, stench and crowds. Of course this isn't the case for the whole of Bangalore but to someone who had come in for the first time, it was a bit of a shock.

I met V after four years that day and old friendships were renewed. Bangalore is the city that brought me back to my roots and my childhood. I was happy here ... for the first six to seven months, but then things went down a steady spiral.

I cant quite put my finger on what really happened, but I am sure that the dream did not work out. Working and being happy in your own country is something we all wish for but as you all know we almost never get what we wish for.

The dream isnt a total failure however. Career wise, Bangalore has done miracles for me. I can now go up to any interview without fear and work in any corporate without fear because I've been exposed to international work standards. This was not the case with my previous stint in Abu Dhabi where I worked for a local Arab company. In that office everyone screamed at each other and curiously, screamed at their computers.

But its still goodbye.

There are things in Bangalore that I wont miss. The pollution, the dust, the mosquito's, the rascist tones and most importantly, the dogs. Bangalore must have the highest population of stray dogs. You will not find a cat here and even if you do they'll be living on rooftops not daring to get down. Seriously after 11 pm Bangalore belongs to the dogs. I have been chased countless number of times by these hideous fanged creatures.

What I will miss are the malls, the pubs, the girls and the friends. There are memories here that I will never forget. Getting drunk with V and K, sitting by a lake in front of V's office and so many more.

When there were good time's there were also the bad times. And during these bad times I have hurt a number of people. I'm not going to name people but if you're one of them then please do know I that I am extremely sorry for my actions. I've apologised a number of times and a lot people have thought that I've never meant it but I do, I do mean it, from the bottom of my heart ... I do mean it when I say I'm sorry.

There is one memory I will forever cherish and that was meeting "her" for the first time. She was a long distance relationship and after two years of chatting and emails I finally saw her for the first time two years ago on this very same day. She was blurred in my vision that day; not because of tears, but because I was not wearing my glasses at the time; but that blurred image of her in a black tshirt and spotless white chicas will always be there in that album of memory snapshots. It's goodbye to you too, I've tried contacting you for the last few weeks but ...

Sigh.

We've slowly and surely drifted apart, you and I, and however much I may think it was all your fault on drunken nights I know I had my part to play in it too. I hope to see you again before I go.

Hmm.

So its goodbye Bangalore and its more likely to be goodbye forever. It's goodbye to a dream I've had for four years but I must be strong. Change is unavoidable and life is never constant. It's time to turn the boat around ... and try once again.

Of absolutely nothing

First a few updates. If you're listening to music right now thats because I put in a playlist widget that has some of my favorite tracks. If you dont like the music you're hearing scroll down to the bottom of the page and turn it off. :)

I've begun writing again. Oh right I didn't mention this earlier. I'm a writer ... have been since I was nine years old when I wrote my first story about Tom and Jerry. Over the years I've written lots of short fiction; some of which were published on a writing forum called Strange Minds. Sadly this site is now under renewal so you wont be able to read my stories.

I've been grappling with writers block for over a year but this time I have a fully etched story in my mind and hopefully that will get me back on track. I will be posting the stories on my other blog which is inactive as of now. Also I'm working on a movie blog which will roll out sometime next month. Again, something I didnt mention before is that I'm a scathing film critic. Just ask V and K, they never want to watch a movie with me since I speak my mind quite clearly and loudly. Infact once I was so disgusted with a Bollywood movie that I just stood up and hurled Urdu curses at it. I was promptly thrown out by the ever alert attenders.

Oh, I've also put in a map widget which tells me where the readers of this blog come from. I have to tell you, its quite surprising when you see hits from places like Fujisawa, Japan and some village in Yemen. Even more surprisingly I had a visitor from Kabul today. If you're the reader from Kabul, may your beautiful country be rebuilt as soon as possible, may you live a long peacefule lives and may those Talib bastards never bother you again. Unless you are one of those Talib bastards which would mean that I'm probably marked for death.

Hmm.

Speaking of Afghanistan, did you know that they are die hard fans of Bollywood movies? Yeah, they dont like Hollywood so much but the they'll swear by some yesteryear Bollywood bigshots like the Big B and Dharmendra.

Oh and do you who else are huge fans ? Iraqi's. Unbelieveable huh? Its true. When I was in Abu Dhabi I used to see lots of Iraqi's rent Bollywood movies to watch with their families. I really dont get that. Some of the Arabic movies are really good with some exemplary performances but they seem to quite at home reading the Arabic subtitles of an over the top Bollywood flick. Keep in mind that this was during the crazy nineties of the Bollywood era. You remember the nineties dont you, when the actors performed aerobics during the dance sequences ?

Ok, well if you're not familiar with that era let me warn you. Do not rent any nineties movie, particularly the early nineties. Now if you're that adamant I'll give you a gist of what every movie would have at that point of time. There would be a hero, his lady love and then the villain. The start of the movie would have some cheesy comedy, a love story, a bit of drama in the middle (tears and dramatic dialogues) and some wham-bam action scenes at the end which would result in the villain's death. Now if it was directed or pened by some sadist you'd probably witness the death of the hero or the lady love too. There. Thats around 5000 movies of the nineties right there.

Of course Bollywood is all different now. The trend is the be different. And they're overdoing it to the point that the "different" stories are now a whole load of crap they expect you to believe. Oh and if they cant find any "different" stories, well they'll just lift it off from other movie industries. At first these sorry saps blatantly copied Hollywood themes, but now since Generation X has got brains in their heads, they're copying other regional movies like Korea and Japan. Yeah right, like we'll never know. Suckers.

Hmm.

Its Good Friday as well as Holi. So if you're in India you're going to see a lot of people running around with colored powder in their hands, throwing it at each other. Quite a fun sight. You get some color on your face and you get to meet some girls. The other way around if you're a girl.

Lately I've been entertaining thoughts about going back to the UAE. I havent decided yet but one thing that bothers me is the URL of this blog. It wouldnt be "Live from Bangalore" if I were posting from Dubai would it ? I wonder if I can change that.

Hmm.

Oh, and here are a few really great blogs that I've read over the past few months:

"The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely" : Caution: if you dont like crude sexual humor you're not going to like this. On the other hand if you've liked the Flashman Chronicles you're going to love this blog. This guy writes fabulously.

"Fthe.net" : An inactive blog ranting about technology. Read the post where the author encounters a Nigerian scamster. Absolutely hilarious.

"The Offended Blogger" : Again, offensive humor. So enter at your own discretion. Again a tremendous feat of writing. The author has has me in splits with every post!

"Shirley the Republican" : This is one crazy woman. Extreme left wing conservative. (I think I said that right. Tell me if I'm wrong.) Read her posts, you'll be fuming within the hour. That is of course if you and I have the same mentality. I fumed up the first few times I visited but now I just laugh out loud at her posts.

And I also found a great social networking site for bloggers called Blog Catalog. Great place for bloggers to hang out. I spend most of the time on the internet there. Great community, great people and some great blogs. If you havent joined, I'd suggest you do.

I'm on the lookout for some nice Indian blogs. If any of you readers know of one or have an Indian blog, let me know.

I guess thats it for now. Until the next post, happy Holi and happy Easter !

Of the worst day ever

Oh yes, it sure counted as the worst day in my life so far. I'm not going to tell you the causes but I can say its not any different from some of the life altering events people around the world have.

Within a span of 24 this issue cropped up from small to resolvable to huge, unbelievably huge and finally utterly irreparable. Of course I watched these events go by with a weary eye but somehow I kept feeling that it would blow over.

It didn't.

And in the span of two hours it turned horrible.

And as if on cue everything else started turning bad. Dogs started chasing me. Birds dropped their poop on me. I kept being pushed around in a crowd. Someone crushed my left foot. And to top it all as night began to fall it started to get bitterly cold and I had no jacket. Perfect. Cold on the outside and cold on the inside.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was the short term triggered panic attacks.

Have you had them ? They're quite something. You start to sweat. Your chest hurts. Uncontrollable trembling begins. Finger movement - right out the window. You cant sit. You cant stand. Hell you cant walk without almost falling over. All you can do is lie down but that doesn't quite help with the turmoil inside you. Listening to music is not an option, its likely to give you a headache. Suicide, at this point of time, is a welcome thought. And I'm not joking.

First time panic attack victims always mistake it for a heart attack. I've had these before so I knew it wasn't that. This is something only the mind can cure. And without outside help it isn't, by far, the easiest thing to do.

I flip open my cell and dial my sister. Its an international call but who the hell cares ?

Sis: Whats up ?

Me: You're not busy are you.

Sis: I'm in the office, but tell me whats up.

Me: I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be honest.

Sis: Yeah, sure.

Me: Do you love me ?

Sis: What sort of a stupid question is that ?

And I grinned.

I told her what the issue was and she said yes, of course she loved me but the truth is she cured me with that half-hazard question. I just couldn't stop grinning.

Believe me when your having a panic attack, something funny goes a long way in saving your a$$.

Thanks a lot sis. I love you. The world still seems bleak and dead to me, but with you by my side I'm pretty sure I can weather it.

Have a great evening everyone !

World, we have a problem

I am living with the Devil himself.

Don't believe me ? See for yourself: Mathematical proof that vishal kc is the Antichrist!

Grrr. I should have known from the day he stole my cap! And on the day he changed his name.

But dont you worry. K and I will sort this out. We wont let this foul creature unleash Armageddon upon us. We have our pitchforks ready.

It's lynchin time !!

Of neighbors

I have a headache.

We have thin walls. Enough said. As I type this, a kid downstairs has been locked in a room which unfortunately seems to have some sort of ventilation connection to the room in which I am currently sitting. The kid is screaming his vocal cords out so hard that he has to cough for five minutes before he resumes. And this has been going on for thirty minutes.

Now you know why I have a headache.

Kids will always be kids. I totally get that. But what do you do when the parents are equally bad ... maybe worse ? When we shifted here we got wind of a few complaints lodged with the landlord from the residents. Apparently they didnt like the fact that bachelors were coming in. Sure we drink, we smoke and we come in at ungodly hours; but for the love of all that is beautiful we do NOT create the racket they make.

The above-mentioned kid screaming is bad. His mom screaming is worse! That woman has a horrible voice and when she starts to scream she sounds like a crazy hypothermic woman getting laid over and over again. What good is screaming at your kids going to do ? Give him a stern look or punish him or her for something they've done but screaming is not going to help. All its going to do is make the kid think that screaming is the solution to every problem.

Oh but this is just the beginning. The family next door has a couple who are constantly at each other's throat. The sort of language that comes out of these two is unbearable to say the least. And believe me with the sort of language V, K and me use with each other : thats saying something. Not to mention that their fights usually occur at around 7 in the morning. Talk about an effective alarm clock.

The people above are almost invisible. I am yet to see them, but I can hear them constantly. They seem to have something to do with coins. Every half hour you'll hear them drop a ton of them. Are they counting it or are they having some sort of wierd sex game with coins; I may never know. But I can assure you ... coins falling on the floor at regular intervals are among the worst sounds you can possibly fathom.

So there you have it: Kid and crazy mom downstairs; foul mouthed couple to my left and coin creatures up above me. The best neighbors you can ever wish for.

Where the f**k is Siberia and how do I get there ?

Of being a mallu guy

So here I was lazing around at home online on my yahoo messenger when this girl pops up on IM.

I'm not giving out her name, only that she was 19 and from bangalore. We start to chat and she seems pretty nice and genuinely a girl. After many escapades in the yahoo chat rooms I can tell if the person I'm chatting with is a girl or not after a few words without having to confirm with a cam or a mic. Usually I can confirm from the start if the individual starts with "hai" or "hello dear." For those of you who are new to chatting, those words mean its a guy.

Anywayz she was pretty interesting up until the point where she wanted to see me. I switched on the cam, but somehow due to connection problems she was unable to view it. I tried sending her pics but that didnt work out either. I even sent her my pic via email but I kept getting delivery failure messages.

"If your first installation of Windows 2000 does not go well, its always a sign that its not going to go well the second or third time." so said my MCP teacher a long time ago. In other words if something was about to go wrong, God gives you all the signs beforehand so you're prepared.

She started to get agitated. Alarm bells rang in my head but I just thought to myself that she's only 19. A teenager at best. Immaturity is something you have to expect.

I came up with a solution. She could check my orkut account. I usually keep my pics locked but since she was so eager to see me, I thought I could unlock it and let her view. She checks my orkut profile while I wait.

"You're lean" she types.

For some reason I've always thought lean meant tall. But this time I wasnt quite sure. You know how you get that vibe from someone that he or she is dissapointed or irritated ? Well thats what I felt. I dialled V and asked him exactly what lean meant.

It means thin.

Ah.

I type that yes, I am lean.

"Dude, I'm looking for someone well built."

I thought that was it. She'd just block me from now on. I mutter "stupid, stupid" to myself under my breath while typing back that it was ok, but it would have been better if she had told me earlier that that was what she was looking for. I would have been honest.

She says its ok. Guess a body doesnt mean everything, she says.

"So whats your name" she asks.

I tell her my name.

"Ooooooh .... you're a mallu."

I wince. Had she just put me off because I was thin, it wouldnt have mattered. This was something I wasnt very confortable with. I tell her that I hate that word.

"But U are one !!!"

I sit silent, trying to collect my thoughts and refrain all the French (read: curses) from spewing through my fingers onto the keyboard.

A short silence.

"I have a problem with mallus."

Ha! Like I didnt get that earlier.

"I guess this means you dont want to keep in touch from now on."

"Yes. As simple as that. You are an intelligent mallu."

That was the final straw. I sprayed everything that I had in my mind onto the conversation window but I never got a reply. She might have blocked me with that one final statement, or she would have blocked me from the first sentence of my outburst.

Know what pisses me off ? This almost never happens to Keralite girls. I've talked about this to my female friends from Kerala and I've always been met with blank stares. They cant understand it because they've never experienced it. Kerala girls have no problems talking with guys and girls from other states. But when a Keralite guy tries to talk to someone he is instantly labelled "mallu." Believe its not just the girls but the guys too. I had a colleague who once told me that if he would ever become the President of India, he'd place nukes under the border of Kerala and set them off to tear it away from India.

As she said that I was an intelligent mallu, I remembered a scene from Roman Polanski's The Pianist. Adrien Brody's character, a Jew, tries to get away from an apartment where he's been holed up for months but unfortunately is spotted by a neighbor. As he scrambles down the stairs as fast as he can, she screams with utter contempt and hate: "Catch him ! He's a JEW !!!"

Thats how I felt: A Jew in Hitler's Germany.

You think thats stretching it a bit too far ? Check this comment on this blog:

These mallus are the worst cancer to the world…..
Cant c how they call KERALA as God’s “OWN” country!!!!!!!!!!!
As far as i know they are Blood Sucker and GOONDA’S…
They treat Women like they treat dogs…I think that their mother’s are also like that, So they believe all women are like that….
For the fact KERALA has the Heighest Literacy rate and even heigher AIDS rate….
To HELL with the mallu and to HELL goes KERALA

I'm sorry if this offends those who read it. But this is the truth. This is the sort of contempt, we Keralite guys have to endure.

Well I've had enough of my rant and writin about this seems to clear my mind. I think I'll have a beer today and drink to a world without narrow minded idiots.

Of Roma and tight dresses

Oh Lord, If only I had a picture for this.

All right. Let's set this thing up for you.

Its Sunday afternoon and we are doing what we normally do. Nothing but TV. So V has the remote and he keeps surfing through the channels until he settles on Asianet. I'm not exactly sure what was on at the time but at some point the TV told us in frames (that were at times slow motion and fast forward the next second) that the Asianet Film Awards 2008 wes being broadcast at 6 in the evening.

Hmm, V mused. Wonder if Roma is going to perform.

I tried to cook up a story that no, Roma hadnt been at the ceremony coz ... well umm ... her mom was sick you know ...

Too late. A slow motion frame of Roma dancing on stage. Curse you Asianet. Curse you to hell.

So, it was fixed. The time slot from 6 to 10 was for the Awards nite. And V waited (quite patienlty, I have to admit) for time to pass. I was ok with it, I had the Simpsons movie to watch and I had already downed three glasses of vodka so I guess anything would have seemed fine to me.

The awards nite began at 6 and it was fairly good. The performances were ok and there wasnt a lot of boring stuff going on. Still I slept through half of oi and woke up at around 8.30. Had Roma come ? No.

I shrugged and went to the bathroom while V clapped his hands at when he heard a few Idea Star Singer names. And so there I was shaking sleep off my system in the bathroom when K shouted out for me.

K: You gotta see this man. Its Roma !! Get you stinking a$$ here right now !!!

I ran to the living room but by then it was too late. Cant blame me, when you gotta go - you gotta go. K was hysterical and V was oddly silent.

Did I miss her ? Naa, shez comin back on but we had a preview says K with a leering smile.

I sit down and hear the details whil I wait for the break to end. It seems Roma is revealing her legs and thighs in the next performance. Not that I'm against legs or thighs; I have nothing against anyone having his right to wear whatever he/she wants. But V's tirade about Roma being a good girl, a nice girl, a decent girl and more importantly a girl who neither I nor K has the right to look at (!!!) was becoming a bit tiring.

The break was over and the anchors called out her name. I clapped, K started giggling and V sat with thick silence.

It was apparent she was wearing stockings. But God was she a mess. A tight dress over a short plump body. Britney shaking her tummy in a bikini was better. This was just gross. I kept commenting on the fact that this girl had no need to wear such a tight dress and all the while my eyes kept going to an ubelieveable bulge on her pelvis. WTF was that ???

Well, she kept prancing and dancing on stage to numbers from Om Shanti Om and when it was finally over K was still giggling and I began my tirade over why that performance was so wrong on so many levels.

V was shattered.

Sorry mate - all that glitters aint gold.

As for Roma, you're cute and you're acting is good. Do not and I repeat: do not do this again. Look at yourself in a mirror before you wear some costume some fool gives you. Tight clothes do bring out beauty but to those who look good in it. You in a tight dress is just some teenager's wet dream.

K joins the fray, V changes his name and couple of 'em UFO's

Well it looks like K has decided to start blogging. His first post came in today from his office, its down below, but for those of you lazy to scroll : here it is.

V accepted his contributer status a few hours ago but decided being named with a single letter wasnt enough. So he changed it.

V will now be called Vlad the Impaler.

(I'll still call him V, Vlad if he gets physical)

Well, cant wait for him to start blogging ... I think he has a few satirical ideas to start with.

Well looks like a good start for this little project of mine so until my next post ... c ya !



Oh, CNN reports fighter jets chasing UFOs. Crazy huh ?

Of caps and sweethearts

Ok, so here are the details. I had a cap which was very nice but has been missing for around 3 - 4 months now. I've looked for it high and low but it seems to have dissapeared into thin air.

That is until now.

While snooping thru V's laptop (which by the way is the one we use to surf the net) I found this discriminating piece of evidence.

Ahhh ... it all comes back to me now. That last time I saw the cap we were in Bandipur going on a reckless dangerous and stoopid amateur trek thru the jungle. It had started to drizzle and V asked for my cap so he wouldnt wet his head.



That was the last time I saw it.

GRRRR. That makes me mad.

V - I know you'll read this. And I know you wont give me my cap back so I took it a step further. I took ur sweetheart hostage.



The cap for the girl. Standoff baby !!!